


Impediment

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, First Time, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jealousy, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Set early Season 4: Brienne is betrothed but not to the Lannister she - or Jaime - wants her to be.





	Impediment

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a prompt meant for my Lions and Sapphires collection...but it got a little out of hand. This is my longest GOT story yet, so I'm a little apprehensive. It's set early season 4, and is canon-compliant up until 4.01 - Joffrey doesn't die at his wedding, which is a real shame but it would rather change the direction of the story if he did. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jaime didn't knock. Didn't wait to be invited in. He just strolled past the guards in Lannister armour and walked straight into the Hand's chambers. His father barely looked up from the papers in front of him at Jaime's approach; a slight turn of the head the only acknowledgement that his eldest son had entered the room. If he _had_ looked up, then Tywin Lannister would have noticed two things: the sword he had given his son only weeks before was missing, as was the Kingsguard uniform that Jaime had fought to wear.

"We need to talk about your engagement to Brienne."

Tywin Lannister didn't bat an eye as he reached for a second set of papers. "You've made your thoughts on my betrothal to Lady Brienne _perfectly_ clear, Jaime. Do we really need to have this conversation again?"

\--

_"Brienne? You're proposing marriage to_ my _Brienne?"_

_His father stared, unyielding. "Tell me, in your time in captivity, or your long journey south with her, did you ever drape your cloak across her shoulders?"_

_"No."_

_Tywin Lannister sat back in his seat, a victor in this conversation before Jaime had even realised they were playing at war. "Then she's not_ your _Brienne. She is a highborn woman, unwed, and has – or so I've been told – perfect birthing hips. As one of my sons refuses to take a wife, and the other is an utter disgrace, I am left with no alternative but to remarry and produce more heirs."_

_He'd never survived the bath in Harrenhal. He was drowning; suffocating in the damp heat. That could only explain this turn of events. Three days ago, his father had presented him with a Valyerian steel sword and, once again, asked him to leave the Kingsguard and marry. When he'd refused, Jaime had been disowned. Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought his father would take another wife. Especially_ her. _Brienne Lannister. She would be his stepmother; the mother of his brothers and sisters. She would be locked up in Casterly Rock and bred like cattle to continue the Lannister line._

_"She won't agree to this," Jaime said, hands flexing around the back of a nearby chair. "Brienne isn't like any woman you've encountered before. She believes in honour, and oaths, and_ nothing _will stand in her way. She made a promise to Catelyn Stark, and she intends to keep it."_

_"And so she shall. I'm giving her Sansa as a wedding gift. Your brother's marriage will be annulled; a Lannister battalion will escort them north; then back to Casterly Rock." His father raised a single eyebrow. "Do you have another argument to present to me, or are you free to go back to being a glorified bodyguard?"_

_Jaime opened his mouth; a thousand condemnations of this union forming on his tongue. But none came out. His father would have rebuttals, and what_ should _it matter that his former captor now sword-in-arms was to marry his father? Jaime shook his head. "No."_

\--

"Yes."

Tywin finally looked up from his papers. He took in his son's attire, but passed no comment. Instead, he offered his son the seat in front of him. Jaime didn't take it. A muscle twitched in his father's jaw. "I have a kingdom to run, a wedding to plan, and eventually a babe to put in the belly of your… _friend._ I do not have time for your childish machinations, so _get on with it._ "

He'd had a speech prepared. Tyrion had helped. But Jaime's mind could not shift from the image his father had just presented, of his father—

\-- 

_"It's disgusting, is what it is," Jaime commented to his brother as they watched their father and Brienne circle the gardens. She was staring intently at the ground in front of her, whilst their father engaged her in conversation. "He's old enough to be her father–her_ grandfather. _And here he is, escorting her amongst the roses like he's_ courting _her."_

_Tyrion chuckled. "Well, you can't blame the man. With sons like us, who wouldn't want a litter of tall blonde heirs?"_

_Jaime flinched. "The whole idea is repugnant. The thought of them—"_

_"Don't think. Drink."_

_His brother passed him a goblet, but Jaime ignored it. Like he had the previous night, when Tyrion had come to his rooms to discuss their father's forthcoming engagement. Apparently it had not been an easy sell: their beloved sister had spat venom in regards to the Maid of Tarth, commenting on her appearance, lack of grace, and her loyalty to their enemies._ _That morning, Cersei had been the sibling to come to his rooms, only this time she threw water in his face. Another thing he had done wrong of late: bringing Brienne, their new stepmother, to King's Landing._

_However, Jaime had to agree with Cersei on this point. He shouldn't have brought her to King's Landing. Shouldn't have allowed her to remain in the Red Keep and circle amongst the vipers of the capital. Brienne was a warrior: she belonged in armour with a sword on her belt and a quest in her heart. Not wearing an ill-fitting tunic and skirt whilst his father talked to her about flowers and the weather. He should have helped her kidnap Sansa as soon as he was fit and able. Then he wouldn't be standing here, watching her with his father, watching her laugh—_

_"What do you think he's saying to her?" Jaime hissed, jabbing his golden hand in their direction. Brienne was staring openly at his father, now; she looked happier than he had ever seen her._

_"Probably asking whether she likes gold and jewels. Most women do."_

_Jaime shook his head. "Not Brienne. You could give her the finest jewels in Margaery Tyrell's collection, and she'd trade it all for Valyerian steel." Across the gardens, Brienne's smile had faded; she was once again looking at her shoes. "He's upset her. What's he said to her?"_

_"I don't know, brother, as we are currently hiding behind some bushes spying on them out of earshot." Beside him, Tyrion drunk his brother's wine. "You know, to an observer, you would appear quite jealous."_

_Jaime glanced around for any listening ears, and kept his voice low as he responded to his brother's accusation. "My relationship with our sister does not mean I feel the same of all Lannisters."_

_Tyrion gagged into his wine, eyes bulging. "That's_ not _what I meant, but good to know." His brother seemed to consider something, before speaking again. "Finally, something to set the Lannister twins apart."_

_Jaime almost missed Tyrion's remark as their father's hand grazed the small of Brienne's back. Why was he even touching her? Didn't he know how_ inappropriate _that was? But then Tyrion's words permeated his narrow world view that had shrunk to solely Brienne of Tarth, and he asked a question to which he did not want to know the answer. "What are you saying?"_

_"That you have remained unyieldingly faithful to our sister, dear brother, for all these years. You wear that uniform, and the burden of it, for her. But whilst you were in chains, sitting in your own shit, she was fucking our cousin. Others, too, most certainly. But Lancel is the only one I know for sure."_

You took too long. _He had been haunted by those words ever since she'd said them, and now they made perfect sense. She'd found someone else to fill his vacant seat by her side and in her bed. He had_ killed _for her. If he'd been sharper, if she'd not been as good, he could have very well killed Brienne to get back to Cersei. But he'd taken too long._ _All these weeks and she'd barely touched him. Instead, she'd sought pleasure in someone else – probably someone who was golden and whole, rather than dark and broken. He had come back for her, had stayed for her. Without her—_

_"You've shared everything for as long as I've known you. Everything you were had her fingerprints smeared all over it." Tyrion pointed towards Brienne. "Everything apart from Brienne of Tarth. For the first time in your life, she is something that's yours –_ just yours. _And you're jealous, whether you care to admit it or not. So let yourself feel this, rather than chastise yourself because you think you shouldn't. Let yourself feel whatever you have for this woman: admiration, friendship,_ love."

_"I don't love Brienne."_

_"Is that because you don't, or you don't think you should? Cersei has replaced you. Let yourself do the same."_

_Across the gardens, Tywin Lannister took Brienne's hands in his and she gave a single nod. Something twisted in Jaime's stomach. She couldn't. She wouldn't._ She was. 

\-- 

"She's not going to carry your child, Father. Brienne isn't going to marry you."

Tywin Lannister huffed, staring at Jaime with a look he usually reserved for Tyrion. "I understand that you two have bonded; travelling under those conditions forms intense ties. You will still see Brienne at family functions; when I bring your new brother to court, for example."

Jaime shook his head. "No. I should have said that the _moment_ you told me about this _ridiculous_ notion of yours. You're not marrying Brienne."

"Your opinion. An opinion you made perfectly clear – and _loudly,_ I might add _–_ at Joffrey's wedding." 

\-- 

_The ceremony had been beautiful; the bride even more so. Yet Jaime had not been staring at the Tyrell girl, or at his King who he was sworn to protect. No, he had been occupied with Brienne – his father's intended – who had stood amongst the Lannister ranks like she had already taken his father's cloak around her shoulders. He'd watched her; she'd stared at the looming statues of the Seven rather than meet his eye. Blue eyes fell upon the Warrior and stayed there. That was what she was: a warrior. Yet his sister considered her the crone, his father the mother. Most labelled her as nothing more than a maiden._

_But she was a warrior, and she didn't belong here._

_After the ceremony was complete, the guests made their way to the wedding celebrations. Amongst the dancing, and the revelry, and the King's cruelty towards his uncle, Jaime found Brienne staring out towards the water. They were hidden from view of the high table, of his father and sister's watchful gaze. So he could stare, and admire, without fear. Brienne wore blue; a dress his father had specially made for her to mark the occasion. Jaime loathed how good she looked in it. "Daydreaming of your own wedding, my lady?"_

_Brienne started at the sound of his voice, but her gaze returned to the fishing boats heading back into Blackwater Bay. "It was a beautiful ceremony, don't you agree?"_

_"It was. Yours will be beautiful, too: Lannister weddings always are. Are you looking forward to becoming my stepmother, my lady?" He placed his hand on Brienne's shoulder and spun her around; he was tired of this dance. "What the_ hell _are you doing?"_

_"I'm just—"_

_Jaime growled. "Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm referring to. You're marrying my father…why?"_

_"For duty, Ser Jaime."_

_"Your duty? I thought your duty was to Catelyn Stark."_

_"_ It is. _" Brienne wrenched her shoulder from his grip. "Your father will allow me to take Sansa back to Winterfell and remove the Boltons from their position. You said it yourself, Ser Jaime: Sansa's marriage is a complication. My marriage can remove that complication, and allow us to honour our vow."_

_"There are better ways to serve our oath to Lady Catelyn than this!"_

_"Name one!" Two people, tipsy from the free flowing wine, hurried past. Brienne quickly lowered her voice. "Ser Jaime,_ please, _if you know a better path forward, then tell me. Right now I have only one option: marry your father to ensure Sansa's safety." She wet her lips; her hands fumbling at her side, missing her sword. "No doubt you believe I'm not worthy of your father's station—"_

_"Fuck my father." Jaime's left hand shot forward, tugging at Brienne's wrist. Her pulse raced against his fingertips, and Jaime was reminded of how little he'd touched her before. He held her tight. "There is not a man in all seven kingdoms that is worthy of putting a cloak around your shoulders."_

_As soon as he'd said those words, Jaime wished he could take them back. Especially as they seemed to be the cause of a wave of sadness that washed over Brienne's face. Her thumb brushed his wrist, before she gently removed his hand from her. "A sweet notion, Ser Jaime. Perhaps that's why no one has truly wanted my hand before: they all believe they're unworthy. I should get back to the celebrations. So should you."_

_She bowed her head, and took her leave. Jaime just let her go. As he watched her depart, Jaime finally let his feelings envelop him. Jealousy, anger, frustration._ Love. _Pure, innocent, true._

\--

"I'm in love with Brienne," Jaime said.

It was plain, and clear: there could be no misunderstanding that _he,_ Ser Jaime Lannister, had fallen in love with someone of his own volition. Not from an amniotic connection; not because he was told they were _meant_ for each other. But because she was good, and just, and challenged him in ways that no one had before. She wasn't the other half of him. Brienne was his equal, in all things. So he loved her.

His father, however, looked as if he was chewing on a wasp. "You're in love with her. Does she know?"

"She does."

\-- 

_"I don't!"_

_"Yes, yes you do." Jaime shook his head, expecting better from Brienne. "You keep giving me easy shots. I need you to_ fight _me, Brienne, not mollycoddle."_

_Brienne frowned. "Fine. But don't pout if I knock you into the dirt."_

_"I won't. And that's how I knew you were going easy on me, by the way. Haven't tasted the ground all evening."_

_"Oh, don't worry, Ser Jaime; you'll soon get used to the taste."_

_Brienne drew her sword, and Jaime drew his. In the moonlight falling upon King's Landing, they sparred. It had become their secret ritual in the last week or so: Jaime would finish his duties in his role as Kingsguard, Brienne would excuse herself from the extensive wedding preparations, and together they would fight. Initially Bronn had been helping him re-train with his left hand, but Tywin Lannister's insistence that his bride not carry a blade had led to Jaime seeking another partner. Things had been awkward between them in the weeks since Joffrey's wedding. The offer to spar had repaired the tears in their friendship. And she_ was _his friend, a true friend. She didn't mock him like Bronn, but she wouldn't let him pity himself either._

_Already he could see a vast improvement in his technique._

_Jaime pushed forward; his blade scraping along Brienne's own. She was taller; he was stronger…_ just. _He used his weight against her and pushed her into the rock. She grunted, struggling and failing to push him off. His body pressed against hers; the steel of his blade brushing her cheek. Brienne stared, eyes-wide and ecstatic. Jaime felt his own smile bloom for a moment_ (I've finally got the better of her) _, before it disappeared. "And to think, once you become Lady Lannister, you'll have to give all this up."_

_Her smile was gone. Her blue eyes were a weathered storm, and Jaime felt a wave of anger roll through her. She knocked him to the ground; his mouth kissing the dirt instead of her. "Why? Why couldn't we have_ one _night where you didn't bring it up?"_

_"Because I'm still struggling to understand: this goes against everything I know of you."_

_Jaime got to his feet and thrust his blade forward. Brienne deflected the blow easily. "It's simple, Ser Jaime: I am doing this to fulfil my oath. What_ I _struggle to understand is why it offends you so."_

_"Because it frustrates me," Jaime spat. "That you're so_ good, _and_ noble _that you'd marry my_ fucking _father to complete your oath." Their blades kissed; both retreating before their swords embraced once again. "It frustrates me that I have to re-train with my left hand because some cunt took my right. It frustrates me that I lost my hand saving your virtue, only for you to give it to my_ fucking _father."_

_Brienne's blade swung through the air. Jaime pushed his shoulder into her; knocking her back. "You think I'm happy about that? You think your father is the Lannister I imagined taking it? You think I'm happy you gave so much to save me, only for me to have to trade it away?"_

_She pushed forward with another blow, but Jaime simply dropped his sword. "What did you just say?"_

_Brienne fumbled over her words. In the thin light, Jaime witnessed her cheeks flush pink. "I said—"_

_"—that you imagined a Lannister taking it." Jaime stepped forward, allowing his hand to encircle Brienne's wrist. Her blade clattered to the ground as her other hand swept over the front of his tunic. He walked her back until they met stone, and Brienne's fingers gripped the blade of his shoulder. There would be no winner here: they both would yield to the other. "Have you developed an affinity for my younger brother? He is married, you know."_

_"Don't mock me. Not now."_

_Jaime nodded. "You're right. I'll do it after we kiss."_

_Jaime dropped her hand so he could reach up and touch Brienne's face. The curve of her ear, the length of her jaw, the slight scar above her lip. He pressed his lips there first, making her gasp. Then he took Brienne's top lip between his. Soft, and gentle: as a maiden should be kissed her very first time. Her bottom lip was pink, and plump, and Jaime tugged it between his teeth. Her fingers carded through his hair and pulled at the strands, pulling him back in for a longer,_ deeper _embrace. The kiss of two warriors finally fighting the same side._

\--

"You think you've won, don't you?"

"Well, _yes._ "

His father shook his head as if Jaime was a misbehaving child. "Your feelings – and hers, for that matter – are immaterial. What did you expect: to _waltz_ in here and announce your feelings for my betrothed and I would just let you have her? You stealing kisses whilst wearing that wretched cloak; she remaining a maiden whilst she watches over my daughter-in-law from afar? _No._ "

Tywin Lannister stood up from behind his desk, and went to stare out the window, seemingly unable to bear witness to his son for a moment longer. "In one week from today, I will wed Brienne of Tarth in the Sept of Baelor. You will stand, like a good soldier, whilst the woman you love is married to someone else in front of your King and his court. I gave you a chance, Jaime; more than one. I told you I wouldn't give you another."

Jaime finally took his seat. The game had changed; new sides had been drawn. Yet, for once, his father didn't know. "You won't marry Brienne in a week, Father, because I wed her last night." 

\-- 

_"Let's get married."_

_Two hands firmly pushed Jaime away. Brienne narrowed her gaze at him, unbelieving the words that had just fallen from his lips. Lips that had been otherwise occupied the past hour with hers. Hands that had held swords now held each other. Neither were ones for words, but they had both made clear their feelings. Somewhere between the Stark camp and King's Landing, they had fallen in love. Such a shame neither had announced it sooner. "Jaime, we can't."_

_"What's stopping us? I told you: I love you." His left hand fumbled pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. He traced the shell, enjoying her slight intake of breath at his touch. "And you, for some reason I have yet to fathom, have given your heart to me."_

_Brienne tugged at the laces of his tunic, jerking him closer. "You're a good man, Ser–_ Jaime. _A good man who has made a vow to the Kingsguard, and myself one to your father."_

_"You have made an intention to deliver on a promise, not an oath or a vow," he said, the pads of his fingers caressing the tendons in her neck. She_ sighed _at the feel of him. "As for my vow, there's a precedent for being dismissed from the Kingsguard, apparently. You said yourself you thought my father was setting up a match between us, before he so selfishly kept you for himself. You wanted to marry me then: marry me now."_

_Brienne pressed her forehead to his; her hands cradling his face. She was delicate in her touch, though he could feel callouses from years of swordplay brush against his skin. Her eyes were screwed shut as if she was trying to savour this moment before the world crashed in on them. He'd done that for years: stealing moments, killing time until the next, and the next. But things had changed. He'd come back from war different: body broken, heart healed. Jaime wanted all Brienne was willing to give. Lucky man that he was, she was the kind to love with all of her._

_"And of Sansa? And your father?"_

_"We'll kidnap Sansa if we have to: I fully intend to keep the vow I made to Lady Stark, and to you." Staring into Brienne's eyes, calm waters on a spring day, he promised he would never break a vow made to her. "As for my father, he might be a problem. His betrothed running off with his disinherited son makes him look like a lion without teeth. And if he's any kind of a man, he's half in love with you already."_

_Brienne snorted, leaning down to bury her laughter in the crook of his neck. He welcomed the shiver at the feel of her breath on his skin. "I didn't realise you were this funny. We've talked exactly four times in the past six weeks. He sees me as nothing more than a womb with legs."_

_"Very nice legs. The kind men dream wrapped around their waist when they're in Harrenhal and have just seen them long and bare."_

_Brienne's skin was warm to the touch; he wondered just how far her flush travelled. She mumbled the words against his shoulder, her teeth scraping against skin through leather and cloth. "I don't get the impression your father likes to lose."_

_"More reason to marry me tonight. I'm yours, Brienne: I have been for longer than I dared allow myself to admit. Allow me to make you mine in sight of the Gods."_

_Brienne pulled back from his shoulder. Her gaze was wary, like an animal expecting an attack._ She thinks this a joke. _No doubt she was picturing a scene: she in front of the Septon, their 'guests' mocking her for daring to believe that Ser Jaime Lannister, the Golden Lion, would ever_ dream _of marrying her. But it wasn't a joke. Jaime released Brienne from his embrace and took to his knees. He pulled the nearest sword in front of him, and put it on the ground in front of her._

_"Our words, or the words of the Sept: it doesn't matter, Brienne: I'm yours."_

I am yours, and she is mine. _Taking his hand, Brienne pulled him from the ground. They walked with three directions in mind: to find his brother, to find a cloak, to find a sept. By the time the sun rose, Jaime Lannister had a wife._

\-- 

"Repeat yourself."

Tywin Lannister refused to budge from his place at the window. Jaime lounged back in his seat, enjoying the tension in his father's shoulders. "I wed Brienne last night. Lovely little ceremony: Tyrion was there, and Sansa. And the Queen, actually: she's rather fond of my wife."

_My wife._ Jaime had never longed for a wife or children before, thinking himself content with his role in Cersei's life, and the children he'd helped sire. But he'd woken this morning with his wife in bed beside him. She'd pulled on his shirt whilst they picked over last night's dinner, and she helped him with his hand – although she told him plainly he could forego it if he wished. _His wife._ Brienne Lannister. It sounded so much better when _wife of Ser Jaime_ followed it.

By the window, his father stood hunched. "Is it consummated?"

\-- 

"Yes, _yes,_ " _Jaime gasped, growling into Brienne's neck as she pulled the shirt from his skin. Her fingertips traced old scars and faded bruises; running through the fine hair that decorated his chest. "Gods, I want you."_

_He grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against him. Brienne groaned at the feel of his erection pressed to her thigh, barely contained by his half-laced breeches. She was a fast study: already her lips took their own lead, memorising the cut of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. Now her hand slid down his front, cupping him. He groaned. "I want you, too. I've never wanted like I want this."_

_Jaime knew the feeling. This was new, and exciting, and it left him breathless with want and love. He'd only ever been with Cersei: fumbled exchanges coupled with haste and lust masquerading as something more. There was desperation with Brienne: a need to have her, hold her, be inside her. But everything they did now would be a first: the first time he undressed her, touched her, fucked her. The first gasp as he took her nipple in his mouth; the first groan as he explored how wet she was with his fingers. The first time she would come crying his name._

_At least, he assumed it would be the first time._

_"Brienne," Jaime said, as they manoeuvred their way to the bed. They were staying in an apartment Tyrion had in the city, far away from Tywin Lannister's prying eyes. They fell back on crisp linens, Brienne's weight welcome atop his own. He pushed blonde hair away from her face, and stared into her eyes. "Have you thought about this…before, I mean._ Us. _Alone."_

_She flushed, and Jaime knew she had. He sat up, gathering his wife – his wife – in his arms. He nipped at her earlobe. "Tell me."_

_"No. You'll laugh."_

_"Laugh?" Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne's waist, his left hand spanning her back. "I just want to know how often you thought about me_ before. _Was it before or after Locke? Did my comments on the riverside make you wet?" Jaime flipped them over so Brienne was splayed across the sheets; quickly pinning her to the bed. "Huh. So I was strong enough."_

_Brienne nudged his thigh with her knee. "I could get this marriage annulled very easily, you know. We've yet to consummate it."_

_"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Jaime leant over and stole a kiss, before attending to the damned fastenings of her shirt. He then stopped for a moment, and looked at Brienne. "You're not regretting it, are you? I'm only teasing. If it helps, I was hard for you as soon as you killed those Stark men."_

_"Even then?"_

_Brienne pushed him back and undid the fastenings of her own shirt. She balled it and tossed it aside, before throwing her arm around Jaime's shoulders. She pulled them chest to chest, firm against the bed. He traced the freckles on her shoulder with his tongue; watched her nipples pucker in the cool night air. He took one between his lips and sucked; tongue swirling around the swollen flesh. Her hands gripped his shoulders and beckoned him closer._

_"Even then."_

_Their breeches and smallclothes were discarded next. He'd get better with his left hand: would one day undress his wife without her assistance. But he relished the look on Brienne's face as she undressed him: her hands running along his flanks, the muscles in his stomach. She looked at the cock bobbing between his thighs, and ran two fingers underneath the length of him, like she would a new sword. His touch was firmer, but no less green: he'd need to train his hand how to touch his wife; the pressure of his thumb against her clit and how many fingers he could reasonably thrust inside her._

_The dawn began to crest, and Jaime Lannister's new marriage was consummated. He laid Brienne against the sheets and took his time exploring all the places his eyes had glimpsed back in Harrenhal. His wife liked the slight bite of his teeth against her nipples; squirmed when he pressed his mouth to her inner thigh. She was loud when she came: back bowed, muscles taut, his name screamed to the high heavens. She came like she fought, and Jaime pressed again for a second bout. By the time he pressed his cock against her, she was wet and eager._

_"This might hurt," Jaime said, as he positioned himself between her legs._

_He took his time easing himself inside; overwhelmed by the feeling of Brienne clamped around his cock. Her legs wrapped around him, encouraging him. There was a slight moment of discomfort, but then Brienne settled underneath him. He kept his thrusts slow and shallow, wanting to build them up together. There would be time to fuck each other senseless: thrusts short and deep; his cock pounding away at her soaked cunt; Brienne burying her teeth in his shoulder to stop from screaming his name. They had time, now. He and his wife._

_Jaime gasped her name, Brienne holding his face to hers, as his orgasm overwhelmed him._

_\--_

"Good."

Jaime thought he'd misheard his father. "Good?"

Tywin turned from the window at last, and offered his son a single nod of approval. "Good. You're married, and there's a chance you've already put a babe inside her. _Good_. I'll make the arrangements to have you dismissed from the Kingsguard at once."

One day, Jaime would be Lord of Casterly Rock. But he would never be his father. Sitting in front of him, Tywin Lannister actually _smiling_ for once, Jaime realised far too late that this had all been a game. His father never had any intention of marrying Brienne. He just wanted his son to do so. A wave of sickness rushed over him. He'd played so willingly into his father's hands: the jealousy, the outbursts, the elopement. Brienne could already be with child. His child. The Lannister legacy made flesh.

"Father—"

"Spare me whatever you plan to say. You're married to a woman you claim to love, and who loves you in return. You should be _thanking_ me for pushing you towards this."

His stomach churned. He thought–he thought this was _his._ His decision, his bride, his life. He thought he'd had something for himself, and instead his father had gifted it to him like he had everything else. "How did you know it would work?"

"Bolton's men are very talkative. They talked about how you lost your hand as punishment for persuading others not to rape your travelling companion. They talked about how you _swooned_ in a bathtub and she was found clutching your unconscious form – both of you naked." Tywin slammed a hand against his desk. "They talked about how my son and heir jumped into a _fucking_ bear pit to save a woman he had no business caring for with no hand, and no weapon. You could have _died_ for her."

"Yes, I could have," Jaime said, feeling his nausea suddenly slip away. His hand, telling the truth about Aerys, the bear: those had all been his decisions. Although his father had steered him towards marriage, he'd felt for Brienne long before King's Landing. He would love her long after they left. "So, what happens now? We're to return to the Rock and make little blonde knights and warriors?"

Tywin nodded. "Eventually. But first you'll take Sansa North." Jaime gaped. "A wedding gift to you both. Then, later, I'll give you whatever you need to find Arya Stark and bring her home; if she's still alive, of course. But _only_ after you give me a grandchild. You'll honour your vows to me before your vows to Catelyn Stark: clear?"

"As the blue waters near the Sapphire Isle, or so my wife tells me." Jaime stood up. He was a soldier with many victories under his belt, but he had never won against his father. Perhaps, with another warrior by his side, they could turn the tide of battle. Taking a few steps towards the door, Jaime turned and decided to win a minor skirmish. "Oh, the sword you gave me…"

"I said you could keep it."

"I intend to give it to Brienne. As a wedding gift."

His father pursed his lips, but returned to the paperwork from earlier. "Good day, Jaime."

Smirking, Jaime left his father's chambers and headed for Brienne's room, He would be staying with her until they departed: he was no longer welcome in the White Sword Tower, after all. One day, he would thank his father. Today, he would simply tell his wife that their journey together would continue without further incident, or impediment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you Lisa for the prompt "How about Tywin fake crushing on Brienne to con Jaime into quitting the Kingsguard?"!


End file.
